Hand in Hand
by amalspach
Summary: What if Rudy Steiner had gone off to another school? A brief AU in which Rudy lives and it changes everything. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: I clearly don't own The Book Thief or any of its characters. I only have the plot.**

* * *

I cannot say exactly why Alex Steiner decided to send Rudy to a far away school. At least, I cannot say exactly why he allowed it to happen. Perhaps he knew that I was going to cart him away otherwise, when he signed the forms and shoved him off.

In any event, Rudy survived, and thus he lived a life with my beloved book thief.

Come, and I'll tell you a story.

I'll show you something.

* * *

Rudy Steiner never wanted to go to that school. He begged, he bargained, he fought tooth and nail, but the end result was the same. He was taken away from his simple life on Himmel Street to attend the elite academy of the Fuhrer.

The train ride was unbearably short, but what was shorter was the amount of time he was able to look out the thin windowpanes and see _them_. The people who counted.

Amongst the small band of waving characters he spotted his weary mother (she had tears in her eyes, but he doubted they were from pride), his hardworking father (who had the strangest look of guilt), and his younger brothers (all of which were far too young to understand that they were loosing him, and Rudy may never come back the same). But between the explicit members of his family rested the ones that were unofficial, the ones so close to him they were practically family anyhow. And in that small pocket of individuals rested a woman cloaked in thunder and a man with an accordion heart, either one bracing a hand on their daughter. Although his frown had grown deeper with each person he realized he would be leaving, for her, he managed one brief, stunning smile.

It was fake, and he knew she would know. She had a way of doing that, of seeing straight through people to their cores and ink. But his book thief smiled straight back, almost as if she was showing a 'thank you' for attempting to sooth her worries.

So as the train began to march onwards into oblivion, towards the academy, Rudy let his eyes linger on only one person. When she finally faded into the exhaust, the world reverted back to the engine, the small and poorly made window, and the whirl of wheels and smoke once more.

* * *

In the two months that followed (which Rudy would prefer not to linger upon) he was utterly and inconceivably miserable. He hated every second of his life at the school, despite classes being far more extensive and intriguing and all around better than before.

If only it had taken place back on Himmel Street. If only his loved ones were only a breath away like usual. If only Liesel were in the class with him.

 _If only if only if only_ became a depressing, harrowing reality our boy the color of lemons was subjected to, and he was always one hair away from loosing his fragile peace.

Said hair finally came after months and months and months of wearing starchy uniforms and waking up early and being on his own. It arrived in the form of a tall instructor passing him a note in a gloved hand. This one tiny slip of paper would cause Rudy to shove everything off his desk and cry tiny, bitter tears in front of his teacher. It would do all of this because it explained that Mr. Steiner was recruited for the war effort, and that meant he might never come home again.

And without them to help him . . . well, there was only so much Rudy could do before he collapsed.

* * *

The stories of a street so envious of heaven it brushed hands with its namesake traveled fast. So fast, even, that it reached Rudy's solitary academy in only a day.

"Did you hear about Himmel Street?" whispered the boys over lunch break, which was when he heard about it. And as soon as he did, he sunk to the floor. The other boys his age - though he hadn't made half an effort to get to know them at all in the months he had lived here - asked about him in curious, concerned voices.

Only the medic was able to revive him from his utter stupor, and in a fit of terrible luck, the same instructor that had so uncomfortably delivered him the news about his father told him quietly about the bombings at Himmel Street.

Although he had thought about running away from the school several times, to think and to do were very different things, and he doubted he would last long without her to ground him. Never before had he imagined they would allow him to just walk out the front door and down to the train station.

However, where it had seemed all too short before, now the ride was far too long. It gave Rudy too much time to worry and reflect about his time away.

Could he remember anything from his extensive visit other than arriving, receiving that note, and leaving? It appeared that nothing notable had happened in any of it, nothing that was worth remembering. It was as if his mind had wiped its hands clean of anything relating to his classes, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Worry was consuming him slowly, but it was far preferable to staying back there.

* * *

She, just like before, waited for him at the train station. She was covered in a thick layer of Himmel Street dirt, and the hands of Ilsa were firmly positioned on her shoulders. At her feet, the worn shape of a battered accordion slumped into the floor as if trying to rest.

Only Liesel was waiting. Nobody else.

As he rushed off the platform, he first leaned down with wobbly feet and touched the top of the accordion box with reverence. Then, as the tears began to sting and blur his vision, he reached upwards and let Liesel fling herself into his arms. They both sunk to the ground, messy streaks warming their pinched faces, locked in the embrace of two people who understood eachother.

"Oh, Rudy," she sobbed, and Ilsa nearly choked, for these were the first words the blonde had spoken to anyone but herself in days. "For a moment I forgot you were at school and I thought you had . . . " She couldn't bare to finish the thought. Rudy simply tugged at her curls and brought her closer, refusing to let go for even a second.

"I know," he told her with a wavering voice. "Oh, I know. I'm just glad you're alive." She nodded in agreement. Comparatively, it was a good day.

* * *

Rudy began to live at the 8 Grande Strasse. At first, Liesel and him set about on their recovery by sleeping in separate rooms. However, the grief, the memories, and the nightmares kept both awake, and soon Rudy had migrated into hers. Ilsa would find the two spread across the blankets, nothing touching but their interlocked hands. They were sustaining themselves off of her words and his stories, and after curling her lips slightly, Ilsa would always let it go. What else was there to do?

After a week of solitude as they slowly regained their strength, wits, and rhythm, Liesel and Rudy washed up and journeyed to the rubble of Himmel Street. Though they searched desperately for remains and mementos of their old lives, few things were recovered after hours of wandering. Amongst those items were a slightly bent spoon, someone's left shoe, and the corner of an unidentifiable photograph. Such insignificant things, but these were the evidence of lives lost, and so they became treasures, sealed up and respected like the accordion heart.

A series of two funerals was later held for the Steiner family - one with the recovered bodies with Rudy exclusively, and another upon the arrival of Mr. Steiner, who had been given leave after the destruction of Himmel Street. He hugged and spun around both children at the station, looking so incredibly relieved to find that at least two of his loved ones had escaped death.

"Crucified Christ," he muttered with wonderment during the second funeral. "Thank goodness I let Rudy go to that school." As Rudy and Liesel nodded vigorously, Alex Steiner smiled through the sorrow. That day, he had been sawn apart. Despite that incredible relief and gratefulness, there were still wooden teardrops and an oaken smile. A silver, shining afternoon.

You kill someone, you save someone.

How was he supposed to know?

* * *

That same night, people reported seeing a small girl and a lemon-haired boy climb into the Amper River, fully clothed. They waded into the middle of the stream and began to talk and laugh and splash one another, letting the frigid water carry away their sorrows.

There was something about a terrifying woman of steel and a man made of sunshine. A group of little brothers that might never grow old and a tired mother living in a cramped and hungry house. A man with feather-like hair and a passion for the extraordinary. How many times must they say goodbye?

Before they climbed out, it was said that the boy grabbed her hand and said something about a kiss. Something about a _Saumensch_. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, and together they climbed onto the bank and dissapeared down the road, still swinging their connected hands.

* * *

Though the bombing had forever changed and hardened all of them, life in all of its hardships continued on. Mr. Steiner worked as a tailor once more, taking on responsibility of both children instantly. Despite protests and reassurances from many people that he didn't need to do that all by himself, Alex knew that he had to, and so he did.

Liesel and Rudy worked in the back, slowly beginning to recover from what happened piece by piece. But there would be no recovering from what happened, not exactly like that. That would take years; it would take a long life.

But slowly, ever so slowly, the three became themselves again. Rudy never went back to that horrid school - and how could he, with his thief and his tailor right beside him? It occurred to him that he should have died beneath the bricks and mortar of Himmel Street. He had the funny feeling that only Liesel should have been able to survive, because that's just who she was. She was so full of a life, a life not meant to be stamped out so quickly. Nevertheless, he was grateful for his second chance, no matter how fleeting.

When they both reached sixteen, a man came into the shop with swampy eyes and fathers of hair.

"Is Liesel Meminger here?" he asked hopefully. Alex Steiner was, in turn, hopeful, but he wanted to be sure.

"Yes, she's in the back. May I ask who is calling her?"

Within moments, Liesel came out, laughing and crying and grinning all over again, hugging Max until she couldn't anymore. She had missed him as much as Rosa and Hans, and now he was here.

Rudy merely extended his hand and smiled a small, knowing smile.

"I'm Rudy, Rudy Steiner. You must be Max." Untangling himself from Liesel, Max shook the younger boy's hand firmly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Rudy."

* * *

"Rudy?" she whispered against his doorframe. Since moving in with Alex, they had received separate living quarters again, although sleep was still a problem. Thus it had become increasingly common for these late-night interruptions, and tonight was no exception. Groaning, the boy got up and sat against the door, knowing that she was doing the same.

"Something wrong, _Saumensch_?"

"I . . . he always played for me. When I couldn't sleep, I mean, when I first came. He . . . he always played for me," the blonde murmured into the darkness. Rudy didn't speak - he knew who 'he' was. "I woke up from a nightmare about it all, and for a second, I thought it was just a dream. That I'd wake up and he'd be there with his accordion. And then . . . " Her voice wobbled and she sniffed, the only indication that she had been crying. "I've been feeling so much better. I've been getting better. But I forgot how much I _miss_ then, Rudy." Another pause ensued and he regretted not opening the door at first. She could have leaned on his shoulder. "I'm stronger than this. I know I am. But I've been starting to feel okay again and I don't remember how to be strong on my own. I can't remember how exactly I got through those days alone at the Grand Strasse. I . . . I thought I was getting better on my own." There was silence, and for a scary second, she didn't say anything.

"Liesel?"

"Yes, Rudy?"

"I miss my family, too."

"I know."

"I know you know." He opened the door at last and saw her, collapsed against the wall, hot tears on her face. "It's going to be okay. I know it." She came into his room and allowed him to hug her tightly, resting heavily on his shoulder.

"How can you promise something like that, Rudy?" she questioned, sounding numb and cold and empty. That wasn't the Liesel he knew.

"Because we can be strong together." After that night, she never had another nightmare about _them_ again, and if she did, they were few and far between. However, during those few and far between moments, she sought the lemon-haired boy out. Her best friend continually upheld his promise to be strong for her, never failing to do so in those few moments she felt weak.

* * *

Against all odds, the girl who survived the demise of her block and the boy who wanted to run made it to eighteen. Max visited often now, and with Alex Steiner in tow, the four would often accompany eachother down to Dachau after its liberation, only to be denied by the Americans.

She had grown up to be easily the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, though Rudy may have been biased. He could see a slew of other girls from all around the world and would always be drawn back to her, his best friend, like a moth to a flame. Perhaps it was her unquenching thirst for books, or the way the words slipped off the tip of her tongue without hesitation. Perhaps it was the way her hair caught fire in the sun and turned to gold, or the way she was oblivious to the other young men starring at her. Liesel was simply fearless and vibrant and real, and it showed.

So, on his birthday, he finally did the unthinkable. He walked up to her, first thing in the morning, and wrapped his knuckles on her door. She opened it, clearly confused, and he slowly drunk in the sight of his thief. For a moment, he stood there breathless, not speaking a word. But just as she was about to question his visit, he leaned forwards and kissed her before he lost the nerve.

It wasn't dainty or pretty in the slightest. She was sorely unprepared, he had overthought everything, and together their teeth bashed rather uncomfortably.

"Can I . . . maybe try that again?" Rudy was fighting down his blush, much like her. Slowly, she nodded, her face still a picture of astonishment.

The second time was worlds better, mainly due to the fact that she kissed him back. The lemon-haired boy smiled against her lips, finally content.

"Are you happy now, _Saumensch_?" Liesel finally said, pulling away at last.

"Very," he gasped in response, grinning like an idiot. "I've waited for years for that kiss." With a roll of her eyes and a bit lip, she grabbed his collar and pecked him on the cheek.

"You complete saukerl," she sighed slightly afterwards. "Didn't you realize that I've been waiting, too?" It was the best birthday present he had ever received.

* * *

"Rudy?"

"Yes?"

"Do you ever wonder about what it would be like if they had made it?" Liesel asked, sitting on the steps of the 8 Grand Strasse. He turned to look at her, the girl he had wanted since they met. The girl he now had.

"All the time," he told her earnestly. "I always wonder what it would have been like if I could take the place of my mother, or of one of my siblings. I always wanted to be here to see it happen, to watch the street fall." He shifted his collar, sighing and leaning his elbows onto his knees. "I would have given anything for any one of them to live. She would be buzzing around my father's shop, trying to help him get back on his feet, and they'd try to work side by side, even though she'd terrible at sewing. And the boys - I'd imagine they'd be attending school like I did, playing ball out on the pavement. They were normal; they'd have blissfully normal lives and a normal set of friends and a normal hobby."

"Aspiring to be Jesse Owens is a lot more interesting," Liesel responded immediately, knowing he needed it. "And, I'd imagine, being Jesse Owens takes a lot of ambition. You'd have to have a lot more skill."

"So, do you think I ever would have achieved it?"

"No," she smirked widely, and he just _had_ to know the secret behind that smirk.

"Why not?"

"Because you're not black." With a laugh at his dumbfounded expression, she got up and ran across the steps, barreling away at top speed down the road. With a grin, he proceeded to chase after her. After all, chasing her was a bit of a habit, at this point.

* * *

"I love you, Rudy Steiner." This simple statement was enough to make Rudy choke on his soup.

This was the first time Liesel Meminger had ever graced her best friend with those words - or, at least, graced him with those words like this. In the ways he had dreamed about since childhood. 'Love' in the romantic, never-ending adoration sense.

"You _love_ me?" he sputtered after a moment, trying to process what she had said. Of course, after making him suffer through his silent pinings for years, she would wait until they were having dinner to tell him this information.

Liesel put down her spoon and folded her hands, taking the opportunity to stare at him as if he was crazy.

"I thought that was obvious, Steiner. Of course I love you, even if I haven't said it out loud." He continued to fall into mental oblivion. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes . . . " he respond on habit before granting another long pause access to their dinner table.

It was then that he realized that Liesel Meminger was truly a dirty rotten thief to her last.

She had no longer stolen just a book from the windows of Ilsa. She had stolen away Rudy himself, heart, mind, and soul, so quietly and efficiently that he had scarcely noticed it happening. Page by page, word by word, and he was entirely at her mercy. He should feel cheated at realizing he was no longer his own. Instead, he just felt lighter than he had in years, starting with every returning flash of her grin, every time she laughed, every brush of her hand. This was absolutely ludicrous, but he was entirely, irrevocably in love with his best friend, and there was no chance of recovery now or ever. No chance of stealing himself back.

And he, surprisingly, was perfectly fine with that.

"Cat got your tongue, _Saukerl_? she teased, looking directly at him like he was her world. It was rather fitting, he thought, seeing as she was his.

"Only your breathtaking beauty, Liesel." At that, she laughed hard.

"You really are a saukerl."

"Perhaps, but I'm _your_ saukerl." And in the end, that was all that mattered.

* * *

They got married a year later when Liesel was twenty and he was nearly twenty-one. To the surprise of no one, their wedding was a small affair with only a handful of people; Alex Steiner, who had so graciously provided the attire, Max, who had become Rudy's best man despite their lesser history, Ilsa and her husband, who beamed like actual parents, and a few other minor friends they had made over their years in the shop.

The ceremony was quaint and short in an attempt to save money for a house, taking place down by the Amper where she had nearly lost her book so long ago. An elderly priest officiated, and in minutes it was over. Liesel was Liesel Meminger-Steiner, and Alex had gained back a child.

Following the simple event, Alex took her aside and told her how much Rudy had loved her, even as a boy. How if it had been a choice between his own life and hers, he would have picked hers every time without hesitation. To this, she had laughed and smiled. She told him she had always known that.

And she had.

* * *

"What color should we paint the walls?" Rudy questioned, his hand resting on her hip. It was a good thing that they had bought the tiny home when they did, for their first child would be there within the next few months.

"Blue," she told him affirmatively. "Blue like the sky, or the way that water looks when it catches the light. Like cool breezes and light eyes. Like hope." She turned to him and her lips drew into the smile he loved. "I want a blue like that."

"Blue it is, then," he replied with warmth, watching the sunlight pour into the to-be nursery and marveling in the simplicity and serenity of this moment. He had never expected to be so lucky. "Liesel?"

"Hmm?"

"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm happy I went to that awful school for a year."

"I'm happy you went, too."

* * *

Together they lived like this, changing houses and cities, streets and towns, and time after time they produced a life for themselves and their three children. Though it wasn't the one they had planned for, Liesel and Rudy paved a road into the never-ending blue and onwards.

However, concerning the bombing of Himmel Street, I must confess that it has been many years since all of that, but there is still lots of work to be done. I can promise you that the world is a factory; the sun stirs it, the humans rule it, and I remain. I carry them away.

I will tell you a secret, dear reader; the book thief died only yesterday. She perished with her Rudy in a suburb of Sydney inside their house, which was number forty five - the same number as the Fiedler's shelter. Like hers papa's, their souls died sitting up.

As I collected them, I noticed the vast array of lives mixed with theirs, but amongst them, lit like lanterns, were Hans and Rosa Hubermann, Max, Ilsa, her brother, their children, their grandchildren, and eachother, the book thief and the runner, the brightest stars of all. In their visions, the sky was a brilliant blue. A beautiful, brilliant, blue afternoon.

But before I carried them away, hand in hand and heart in heart, I brought them back to their roots, to their town. The three of us walked in silence down Anzac Avenue, where I produced her long-awaited novel from the folds of my pocket. Her frail hands reached for it, gripping the dusty black cover with trepidation.

"Is this really it?" she asked quietly, regarding the manuscript with a wonder. I nodded. Slowly, she pried open the worn pages. "I can't believe . . . " Though the test had faded, she and Rudy were still able to read the words. After a long moment spent inspecting it, she sunk to the curb, and he followed her, open book in hand. I did the same.

"Did you read it?" she questioned, but she didn't look at me. Her eyes were still glued to the sentences in Rudy's wrinkled hands.

I nodded. "Many times."

"Could you understand it?"

And at that point, there was a great pause.

A few cars drove by, each way. Their drivers were Hitlers and Hubermanns and Maxes, killers, Dillers, and Steiners . . .

I wanted to tell the book thief many things, about beauty and brutality. But what could I tell her about those things that she didn't already know? I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race - that rarely do I ever simply estimate it. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.

None of these things, however, came out of my mouth as the couple tried by time looked at me, expectant.

All I was able to do was turn to Liesel and Rudy and tell them the only truth I truly know. I said it to the book thief and I say it now to you.

 *** * * A LAST NOTE FROM YOUR NARRATOR * * ***

 **I am haunted by humans.**

* * *

 **So, that was that. Clearly Markus Zusak is a far better author than me, but I felt compelled to write this entirely too short AU. There aren't too many stories in which Rudy and Liesel just get a normal life together. Sure, they meet in the afterlife, or she moves on, or he's the one to live, or he survives only to die protecting her later on . . . There's no shortage of different outcomes, but giving them a happy life together, no matter how terrible the story, is rather rare.**

 **I don't know. Maybe I'm just bad at finding those stories. In any case, here's another one.**

 **. . . I really have no idea why I felt the need to write this today. I just wanted to, I guess.**

 **In any case, I hope you all enjoyed this deviation from my usual content. I hope I did okay with this drawn out rewrite. Check out my other fanfics and have a nice day!**


End file.
